Out of Time
by Supermorff
Summary: This story is set in the period between Liam, later Angel, when still human being kicked out of his house by his father and being sired by Darla. Well... in truth it's more a time travel piece, in which Buffy visits the past. New take on an old idea.


Set in the period between Liam being kicked out of his house by his father and being sired by Darla. Liam finds a strange girl out of place in his little town and resolves to have fun.

**Spoiler warning:** There are, I guess, spoilers for flashback episodes like 'Becoming part 1' and 'The Prodigal'. Still, they're pretty minor.

**Disclaimer:** I haven't paid for any characters or places, so I own none of them. Nevertheless, just as Joss has creative control of the show, I suppose I have creative control of this story.

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Darla had a good life. Well, she was dead, but it was good. She was rich, powerful (in most senses of the word) and very beautiful. And best of all, she was not afraid to use her advantages to her, well, advantage. She was, however, lonely. The Master had made her what she was, and he had doted on her like a father for two hundred years or so. But she wanted someone of her own, someone her equal and not her superior. And so, she had begun her travels. Her home country, England, where the Master made his nest, had yielded no results, and though she fully intended to visit the mainland, her first stop had been Ireland. And how profitable it had been…

In Ireland, the people were so beautifully predictable. They were superstitious enough to be wary of strangers and to give them free reign wherever they pleased, but rational enough to invite her into their most private abodes. It was a delicate balance. Too superstitious and they may have driven her away, called on some local hunter to banish the demon that walked among them. Too rational and they would have questioned her lineage and wealth, watched her like a hawk, and she would have been unable to feed. Either way, the result was very much the same and she had encountered both during her journey around England.

But in Ireland, there was no resistance. Wherever she went, they welcomed her as their own. She could feed on the poor folk and nobody would care, or prey on the rich and they would call it the blood fever. She had laughed herself to sleep some days. But she had not found anyone worthy enough to give the gift of immortality, nobody she would have willingly called her equal.

That was, until she arrived at Galway…

In each place she visited, she visited the great estates, but they were invariably filled with morons. She visited the slums, but they generally cared more about their own well being than anything she could offer them. She visited the brothels, where she had begun her second life, but had never found anyone quite like her. Occasionally she visited the taverns – she had no fear of them, of course – but usually found that she disliked the uncouth behaviour of its residents. That was, until she arrived in Galway.

In Galway, there was a certain town and a certain tavern, and in that tavern was a certain man. Darla had been drawn to him instantly. It was not his looks, though he was remarkably handsome. It was not his behaviour, because he was louder and more uncouth than all the other drinkers combined. Rather, it was something intangible that made Darla want him to be hers from the very first.

Rather than take him immediately, she waited. She wanted to see what he was. So many men had seemed promising before and had disappointed her after the change, but Darla was confident that this man would make her proud.

During a bar brawl, shortly after she had first seen him, she had asked a waitress about him. A poor waif in old, loose clothes, she had said that he dallied with many women. But in the morning all promises he made were forgotten.

"That shouldn't really be a problem for me," Darla had told her. That night she had taken the waitress, her blood betraying the desires within her, and nobody had noticed.

For weeks she watched him in the shadows, learning about him. She saw his constant conflict with his father, watched him walk away from his family home when the row became unbearable, saw him seduce woman after woman and it only made her want him more. Darla knew that this man, this Liam, was the one she had been looking for, certain that they were made for each other, and then the girl appeared.

Darla knew there was something odd about the girl. Like herself, she had appeared seemingly out of nowhere with no past to speak of. Unlike Darla, however, she made no discernable effort to fit in. She spoke in an unusual dialect, noticed things that most others would readily forget. Although she wore the attire of a serving girl, she wore a band of silver on her arm and her shoes certainly did not seem natural. The girl apparently realised this as well, and tried her hardest to conceal them beneath her skirt. But what Darla detested about her more than anything was that she was interested in her Liam. And Liam, in all his debauchery, wanted her as well.

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Liam was a simple lad. He would be the first to admit it. He wanted the world, but couldn't have it. Instead, he took what he could get, whatever it was. Often it was alcohol, but every so often (rarely more than once a night, but there were exceptions) he took a woman that he took a fancy to. His flings never lasted beyond the initial, intense, courting period, and they never meant anything serious to him. At least, not until the girl appeared.

Liam had never seen her before, but that wasn't unusual. People came to and from Galway all the time – except for him, of course. His father was such a poor businessman. If he'd had the slightest faith in his son, he would be twice as rich by now, or so Liam told himself. It didn't matter anymore, anyway. Liam had walked out, or been forced out, made to leave his mother and his sister, Kathy, just because of his father's temper. He was determined to make a name for himself, to show his father what he could do. Then he would return and take Kathy, and they could all live happily ever after. For the moment, though, Liam was content to drink himself into a stupor every night.

But then the girl turned up, and it no longer mattered to him about the other women, no longer mattered that his father thought nothing of him. Suddenly, Liam wanted to make something of himself for her. She was very unusual, unlike anybody he had ever met.

When they first met, he was stumbling through the streets with one of his friends. He had been in a brawl earlier in the evening, and was feeling pretty good about himself. He was also completely drunk, which always helped. Suddenly, she had run headfirst into him out of a side alley. Both he and his friend fell back, but she remained upright. Her clothes were entirely alien, tight-fitting and brightly-coloured. And she was wearing trousers! That was unheard of. And then he looked at her face. Her hair was golden in the lamplight and her eyes shone at him.

As he stared up at her, his mouth hanging open, she looked down. She gasped, "Angel!" and pulled him onto his feet, moving up to kiss him. Liam was shocked, so unused to a woman being so dominant in a relationship, but couldn't help himself. He sank into the kiss like a pit, and he never wanted to get out. All of a sudden she pulled back and waved a hand in front of her face.

"Your breath stinks, have you been drinking?"

"Well…" he began, but seconds later she covered her mouth, peered closely at him.

"Where am I?" she asked, hesitantly.

"Uhh, Galway?" Liam tried, unsure of what exactly was being asked of him. She nodded, very slowly.

"What's the date?"

"April 3rd…"

"I mean, what's the year?"

"The year? It's 1753 in the Year of Our Lord." He said it mockingly - Liam had never been very religious, unlike certain other people he knew.

"Oh my god. I'm so sorry!" And she turned and disappeared into the night. He had asked his friend later, but he had been unconscious and had seen nothing.

Liam had avoided the bars for the next few days, spending all his time trying to track down the girl. He had not found her, however, and had just resigned himself to the fact that she had disappeared when suddenly she appeared again.

His friend had dragged him almost to the tavern after three days, spinning tales of the beautiful women he was sure to meet and enjoy. Liam no longer cared for any women at the tavern, or so he thought. When they arrived in the early evening, he was shocked to see that they landlord had hired a new serving girl. And, lo, it was the very same girl that he had met three nights previously.

He knew she recognised him, because she cast glances in his direction whenever she could. But she didn't kiss him again. And she seemed immune to his usual advances. In fact, the more he pressed, the more she retreated.

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Buffy didn't know why she had travelled back in time. Nor did she know why she was in Galway, where Angel had lived before Darla turned him into a vampire. She did know that she was there now, and that Angel - Liam as he was called in this period - was currently human. That meant that someday soon Darla would corner him in that alley and kill him. And as the Slayer, Buffy was uniquely qualified to stop it from ever happening.

She had worked her way into the tavern as a serving girl using a stolen set of clothes. She wanted to watch him, to protect him from the dark things. It was only fair - hadn't he done the same when she was young and inexperienced? The problem with that theory was that she had no way of knowing how long it would be before he was supposed to be sired, nor did she know how she was going to get home. And so she was stuck in this time period, her time spent in a sleazy bar in which every other man made advances - sometimes quite forcefully.

Not long afterwards, Liam had walked into the bar. She quickly realised why so many women seemed to be attracted to Liam. Of all of the interested men, he was the nicest and best looking, although that wasn't much of a compliment. She had to keep reminding herself that it wasn't the same person she knew - that this Liam wasn't the Angel she knew. But it was so difficult. When he tried to be smooth and charming, it was easier. But sometimes when he sat alone, or with close friends, she could see some of her old lover in his face. And though he had an accent now, there were inflections in his voice that made her shiver.

Still she kept her distance and her eyes open. She couldn't afford to get close to him, not when there was so much at stake. So she watched the horizon, hunted when she could, and protected the sleepy village.

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Liam came to in the corner of the room. He must have drunk more than usual the night before, because he had passed out much sooner than usual. He hadn't even managed to bed any of the local girls. Then it came back to him - that girl he had run across. She was there, and she had refused him. Again.

Bleary-eyed, he pushed himself upright and dragged his sleeve across his face.

"Oh, you're awake." He swung his head round, then wished he hadn't as the nerves in his neck screamed. He winced. "That'll teach you to drink yourself out of your mind." The light brown shape eventually resolved into the girl of his dreams.

"It's you."

"You noticed that, huh?" She didn't seem overly impressed.

"Who are you?" She turned away and righted a table that had been knocked over. He didn't remember that happening.

"Like you care. I'm not going to be one of your conquests, like everyone else in this town."

"But you're not like anyone else." She stopped working at that, but Liam couldn't see her face because she was looking in the opposite direction. "Please… just tell me your name." She turned around slowly and looked at him. She was pained, he could see it, but he didn't know why. All he knew was that he wanted to make it stop.

"I… it's Buffy." It was an odd name. Liam had never met anyone called Buffy before.

"It's a pretty name," he said, and she screwed her eyes tightly closed. "What's the matter?"

"Nothing. It's nothing."

"Are you sure? I don't think I could stand it if there was something troubling you and I just did nothing."

"I don't think you have a choice."

"But if you just…"

"No! I'm not going to be another girl you can just get in bed and then forget about. I won't let you do that to me. I'm sorry." And she walked off.

Suddenly it was so clear. She had been hurt. Someone had hurt her. Someone had hurt Buffy. Liam was livid.

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Darla watched. Sometimes she hid in the shadows, sometimes in plain sight, but she always made sure she could not be seen. She watched as Liam tried a string of moves on the mysterious girl, and watched as every single one of them failed. Over the days that followed, she could see the girl's resolve failing, could hear her heartbeat increase whenever he was near, could smell the nervousness. She didn't want to give in to Liam, but she didn't really have much of a choice in the matter.

After almost two weeks, she finally caved in. Darla knew it would happen the moment she saw the girl look over at him. Liam hadn't taken her eyes of her for a long time. The girl looked down again, her cheeks flushing rapidly. Yes, Darla would lose any chance she had of winning Liam tonight. He had stopped drinking to such an extent that he didn't even collapse in a stupor any more. He had become the responsible one, taking his inebriated friends back to the hovel where they had been living ever since Liam had been thrown out of his house.

This night, he would not be going home. This night, the girl would finally give in to his advances. And they would spend the night together in the cosy little room upstairs.

Darla hated that girl.

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Buffy's lips were locked with Angel's… Liam's… as they made there way slowly up the back stairs of the tavern. She knew this shouldn't be happening. But he had been there, so much like the man she loved, and so determined to win her. Buffy had eventually given in. She had wanted to, in a way. It didn't matter what happened afterwards any more, as long as they had the night.

With her back pressed against the door, she fumbled with the latch and fell inwards. Her room was small, and it had taken some time to get used to, but she had. She walked backwards to the little bed - how many women had he had in this bed before she arrived, she wondered? Liam had not crossed the threshold.

"Liam? What's wrong?" Suddenly all her nervousness came back to her.

"I… I thought I would want to. With anyone else I wouldn't have thought twice." Buffy's mind was racing. What was he saying? Did he really not want her? "But I don't want to hurt you. I know you've been hurt. I couldn't do that to you." She smiled slightly, although the hurt in her eyes didn't dissipate.

"I want you to." Buffy was surprised to realise it was true. She shouldn't have been. She had wanted this for a long time. "Please."

Liam smiled at her then, and he was her Angel again. They stood for a while longer, looking into each other's eyes, before he took the extra step.

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Liam opened his eyes, and tried to remember where he was. Movement besides him instantly reminded him. He had made love for the first time last night. Until this moment he hadn't even understood the difference. She was lying in his arms and their legs were tangled together, and he never wanted to be without her again. He smiled and kissed her golden hair. She sighed in contentment, and her eyes fluttered open.

"Angel?" she murmured.

"You can call me that if you want."

"Oh, I… I'm sorry. It's just…"

"Your last lover?" She looked down.

"You remind me of him sometimes."

"Was he the one that hurt you?"

"I… in a way, I suppose he was." Liam laid back and stroked her bare skin.

"What happened?"

"It's… complicated."

"I wanted to hate him for what he did to you," he told her. "Anybody that did something so bad to you deserved it. But I can't, because whatever he did lead you to me. Without him, I might never have met you, and I couldn't stand that. I don't think I'll ever meet anyone quite like you again." She didn't respond. "I think I love you."

"I love you too." Liam's heart sang.

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Darla entered the tavern early that night. She wanted to be certain that she was right about Liam. Was he truly beyond her grasp now, or had something else happened?

As soon as she saw the girl, she knew her worries were well founded. She was still glowing from whatever Liam had done to her.

And then their eyes met. Darla realised instantly that the girl had never seen her before, because her eyes became wide and she stared with abject horror. And then she ran out of the tavern, left her apron behind, and disappeared.

Perhaps things weren't quite as hopeless as Darla thought.

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No! thought Buffy as she ran. Not now! If Darla was here, that meant Liam would soon be turned into a vampire. She didn't have long before she had to save him.

And yet, Liam's words had come back to her. Without Angel, she would never have known Liam. What would that do, if she somehow stopped Liam from being sired? She would never meet Angel, could well die several times in the future if he was not there to help her. For the world, it might be better if Angelus, the monster that Liam would become before becoming Angel, had never existed. But then Angel would never exist, and then could she have come back at all?

Buffy was tormented. She could save her lover, Liam, and live here with him, hoping that she wasn't somehow pulled back into a bleak future where Angel had never existed. Or she could keep running.

Destiny was a bitch, Buffy decided. But did destiny really exist?

What to do?

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Buffy was gone. It took Liam quite a while to process that little piece of information. He had looked for her, but her room had been cleared and she had seemingly just vanished. What had he done to scare her off? His father's words echoed in his mind: he was a disappointment, a terrible son, and a worthless human being. Why else would Buffy have left? He had been morose until his friends had held an intervention.

"Come get drunk," they had insisted. Liam had not wanted to return to the place where he had spent the most magical moment of his life, but they could be quite persuasive. So he had gone to the tavern one last time. Then he would leave this God-forsaken place.

Liam emerged from the tavern later that night heavily inebriated, and supporting his friend on his arm. After taking a few steps his friend collapsed on the cobbles. Liam said something, but afterwards could never remember what it was. When he looked up, there was a lady on the other side of the square, wearing the most beautiful dress he had ever seen. And she was blonde. She faded in and out of focus, but she didn't really matter to him. Resolving to have fun one last time, Liam staggered over to her.

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Darla disappeared around the corner, enticing Liam into the alleyway. This was the opportunity she was waiting for. Suddenly, she was pulled roughly into another side street. Her first instinct was that she was being robbed, but when she turned it was the girl standing there, a wooden stake held firmly in her hand.

"So, you know about us too."

"I know more than you think," was the reply, as the girl swung the stake forward. The girl was fast, Darla had to admit, but Darla parried the blow. The block didn't faze her opponent in the least, and she immediately followed with a counter.

Darla was amazed as she stumbled back. The girl was fast and strong. Could it be possible that her rival was a Slayer? Of course not, Slayers were forbidden to involve themselves with the rest of humanity. Then who was this girl?

Darla considered fleeing, but no sooner had the thought crossed her mind than the girl gained the upper hand. The stake flashed close to her heart and her face shifted to reveal her razor-like teeth. The girl was not at all worried. She certainly knew about vampires.

Then, for no reason that Darla could detect, the girl stopped her onslaught. Liam had just entered the alley. She looked at the stake, and at Darla, and lowered her weapon.

"Go to him now," the girl commanded, and Darla at once considered not doing it just to disappoint her.

"Why?"

"You will bring him to me. You must go to him now, so that you will lose him. But know this: he will be the death of you. After you've killed your last, all that will be left is me. And there will be a reckoning." Then, suddenly, as if she had never been there at all, she was gone. And Darla thought no more about what she had seen.

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Over two centuries later, Angel remembered.

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Yeah, I get that it's short, and that I haven'treally given any detail to the relationship. For once, this story wasn't meantto be about the B/A relationship. Or... well... it sort of was.


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